Jeff Winger is not okay
by JForward
Summary: Ever since he was a little kid, Jeff's had a problem. Greendale only makes it worse. [Shameless whump, tw for fainting and nosebleeds.][Chapter 5 now up.]
1. Chapter 1

Five times Jeff Winger passed out at Greendale, and one time somebody noticed.

Or: An overdone trope used as a shameless excuse to brutalize Jeff in a fanfic.

W/N: I'm aware Jeff canonically gets knocked out by the original Anthology teacher but I'm not counting that because he was actively knocked out and this about him passing out. (Shut up it counts.)

He'd always insisted he wasn't sick. Jeff took care of himself; he was like a fine car, well cared for, keeping himself at the top of his game without any intros. But passing out had just… happened. There was always a reason, in his mind. They only started happening after his dad left. Sometimes with a gap as big as a year; sometimes several in six months. But they'd stopped after he'd become a lawyer. There was a big gap. Seven years - and he only passed out once, wakening in his office, smears of blood on his paperwork. Easily covered up. Nothing in any of the tests he'd taken over his lifetime had shown up a reason for him to pass out, and he'd just accepted it as part of his reality. It was lucky it had never happened while he'd been driving. It wouldn't stop him from becoming a lawyer - it hadn't - and now that he'd been disbarred, he hadn't even considered the fact that there might be a recurrence of his little… problem.

Of course, the drama was starting in his very first week. In his attempts to get in Britta's pants, he formed a study group, almost destroyed it, rescued it. Then basically got shot in the face by her. Hot blonde named after a water filter, and he failed to get in her pants. What a pain in the ass. This was going to be more work than he expected, but maybe it would be an interesting little sideline to stop him from dying of boredom while he tried to claw his way through this school for four years. Heading home to his expensive apartment, Jeff sighed as he climbed up the stairs. It was late - almost midnight - but the cramming session had been fairly successful and he felt like maybe he had a chance at passing the test. Things were looking up.

It was as he walked in the condo, eyes flickering around, that he felt the familiar foggy sensation in the back of his head. "Ah, fuck." he hissed, dumping his jacket on the back of his chair. Trying to get around to the front of it before he passed out; too slow. Jeff came to laying on his thick rug, eyes flickering open with a groan. Sitting up, he checked his nose first. Blood free. Good. With an aching arm and elbow (so he'd landed on it) Jeff sat up slowly, taking deep breaths. Ten minutes later and he moved around the condo, as if nothing had happened, just another event brushed under the carpet in the life of Jeff Winger. The next day he went to school, as if nothing had happened, thinking to himself about the previous night. If this was going to start happening again? He could hardly bear to imagine the embarrassment of passing out in a class, and he couldn't go picking a fight every time he got woozy. So he just kept a packet of tissues in his pocket and hoped that it wouldn't happen again for a good few years.

Unfortunately enough, he was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time happened at Greendale campus. About three months after starting, it was coming to the end of the school day. He'd been planning to get to his car and get the hell out of that godforsaken place as soon he possibly could. It hit him like a blow to the back of his head. Staggering forward, he exhaled hard between his teeth. "Shit. Fuck." he swallowed hard, throat bobbing, looking around. Couches. Student lounge. Perfect. Jeff just about reached the furniture, dropping his book on the floor as he buckled over the arm of the chair, landing face down with his knees hanging over the edge of the horribly-decorated couch arm. When he stirred, rolling sideways and pulling his long legs up to his chest. There was blood on his face this time as he tried to get ahold of himself. Nobody seemed to have noticed him.

After a good five minutes of laying there, staring into space, he put an arm down and slowly eased himself up to sitting, taking deep breaths. Scrambling his hand in his pocket, he found a tissue, pressing it to his nostrils. Eyes flickering around to make sure he wasn't seen, leaning forward with elbows on his legs, one hand limp and the other holding a rapidly-reddening tissue. The nausea was strong, so he swallowed rapidly, mouth feeling overfilled with saliva. Dipping his head a little, eyes shut, he knew he had to take a little more time. But he wanted to get out of here, as soon as possible. Get home. Get away from Greendale, and the horror of people who'd been here for ten years, get away from the bickering study group that he was actually starting to kinda like (not that he would ever admit it), and away from… this. Whatever the hell was wrong with him.

So maybe there was more than a little fear involved in this decision, he thought, pulling out a fresh tissue to dab at his face. It had been going on so long… he'd almost adjusted himself to the idea that randomly passing out might be normal. But what could he possibly do? He didn't want to run through a gamut of tests. A tune up was one thing, but replacing parts of the engine, taking it apart to check things, maybe damaging things in the process? No. He was handling this. And maybe it was his second attack in three months, but that wasn't too bad. Yep. He was fine. Leaning, he scooped his book off the floor, before getting to his feet. Eyes flickered around, checking out the canteen once more, and Jeff ducked his head slightly, aiming to slip out of here as quick as possible. His lexus, his new apartment, were waiting for him. Just a blip, he told himself quietly. He wouldn't let this happen again.

As if he had any control over it.

W/N: As ever, please follow, like, and comment. Good comments are worth more than you can imagine.


	3. Chapter 3

W/N: I'm gonna totally admit that I've written the first few parts of this in one go at 4am and I genuinely have no idea what Jeff has so just enjoy the shameless whump. Also, it might contrast with canon at points. What's the fun in fanfic if you can't AU a bit? J

The third time was when the creepy fat guy was trying to hard to get into their group that he high-kicked Jeff in the face, causing a bad nosebleed (but thank god it didn't actually break his nose.) "It's fine, it's just a nosebleed, I get them when it's dry and when someone _kicks me in the face_." it was later in the day, and his nose had been on and off, a constant irritation that sent him on a constant edge of irritation. In the past, the nosebleeds had always been an alert for when he was about to pass out. That was one of the reasons he never liked getting hit in the face - well, he did his best to avoid it anyway, and had done very well at that in his lifetime.

And it always seemed to connect to the mood he was in. The angrier he was, the more he was struggling to contain his outbursts of rage, the more likely it was for him to pass out. The only time he'd passed out at work, as a lawyer, was after he'd almost lost a case and gone somewhat wild, even if he'd saved the case at the last second. Then after… he paced in the study room. It was lunchtime, the others had gone, after all that drama with Buddy. But he didn't want to go to the canteen. Not yet, he had a feeling it was coming soon. His nose was bleeding again and he'd decided to just shove tissues into it, because it wasn't going to stop any time soon.

The sensation had been crawling up his neck throughout the whole session, as much as he wanted to resist them, not sure if he'd have to dash out of the room at an unknown moment. The predictable nausea was hitting him hard, and he was glad to have stayed behind. At least this time he managed to sit down before he passed out, wakening with his head on the desk, the tissues in his nose soaked totally. He freed them slowly, holding a fresh wad up there. The exhaustion crawled over him, but he left the room slowly, trying to keep his back stiff and his steps with their same cocky swagger in place. He was supposed to be himself, Jeff Winger, all attitude, sass and strength. But god, this was draining. There was a regularity to this he hadn't experienced for a long time.

When he was sitting on his phone in class later, he wasn't texting. Instead, he began to look for conditions that could cause collapsing like this. God. Imagine if he passed out while banging a hot chick… there was a terrifying idea.

W/N: Please fave and comment J


	4. Chapter 4

His dad. His dad was coming? That shouldn't be possible. If he'd wanted to find his dad, he could've done it a hell of a long time ago, but he didn't want to, and so he hadn't. Pierce was messing with him. Pierce was messing with all of them, damnit, and he couldn't let the man get to him. Pacing around the hospital, he was aware of Abed tracking him with his camera, making him more and more pissed off. He knew he kept doing stupid shit; dropping his phone, tearing a magazine, and this now. Stalking up and down a short stretch of hospital that was mostly empty. He couldn't accept that Pierce had actually managed to get ahold of his father. That was an impossibility. And yet… if he had… Jeff leant on a wall, taking a deep breath. If he had. Maybe it was time to address all of this. Maybe… maybe he could handle it.

His eyes flickered around but spied no Abed. Good. That meant he was probably in with Pierce. Shoving into the room where the old man lay 'dying' (like he fucking believed that) in his hospital bed, Jeff delivered his threat with a viciousness that proved to himself he wasn't lying. If this was fake? He'd have no hesitation beating the living shit out of the old man. There was no doubt in his heart as he thought that. Now it was just… the wait time. He resumed pacing, unable to settle, frequently going outside. Just to stare, waiting for a car, for his dad to step out. He wasn't sure what to believe, mixed up inside, all tangled into a ball of repressed feelings.

Then the car pulled up. It was like a headrush. His phone rang. _He doesn't have my phone number_, logical mind spoke, but another voice, like the voice of the abandoned child inside, responded - Maybe Pierce gave it to him, maybe he'd found it. But as soon as the phone was to his ear, he knew that wasn't his father's voice. The rage exploded inside him and he found himself tearing towards the car, not caring if it was an actor or Pierce, not caring about the people in the other car it hit. It was rage he hadn't felt since before he locked himself down, deciding that the only emotion worth showing was cocky confidence. The door flew open and he was grabbing, tugging, hearing the cries behind him and not even caring. Pierce. It was Pierce. Bastard. He'd kill him. Beat him into a pulp. But the hands that were tugging at him finally got him away, despite all his resistance. He was shouting, almost screaming, as an ambulance crew came rushing over to rescue both Pierce and the people behind them.

It took a severe effort to restrain him, but he'd gone somewhat limp, panting hard. "Alright. I'm okay. You can let me go." he said, to Shirley and Troy, who were doing most of the holding him back. Cautiously, they released him, and he let his arms go limp, glaring at the doors of the hospital.

"Jeff." he looked towards Annie when she spoke, "You should go inside. Your nose is bleeding." he reached up and touched his nostrils, looking at the smear of blood on his fingertips. "Fine." he snapped, "But if you think I'm going anywhere near that bastard, you have another thing coming." he walked away from them, straightening his shirt a little, pulling a tissue from his pocket and pressing it to his face.

It wasn't until later, though. The bleeding had stopped and they'd put it down to his anger levels. The whole group had been put through the ringer by Pierce. Deciding to go warn the man to not meddle in his life ever again (feeling that he had enough calm and control now to do it reasonably, without smashing a chair over the old guy's head), he'd slipped into the room. And found Pierce apparently asleep. Sighing, he'd slumped into the chair near the bed, staring at the man and biting back his rage. It made him feel sick, so angry was he at the bastard. He had to be out. There was no way that they could let him back in the group after this.

The wooziness was almost welcomed. Should've known it would happen. Changing position, he tried to make it look like he was asleep, even as his eyes rolled up and he went limp. No more blood this time, at least. He came to through the blurry sounds of Pierce saying something about being a father to him.

"No you're not." he ground out, forcing himself to sit up. Not taking his time to try and recouperate was difficult. As he shoved to his feet, Jeff's knees threatened to buckle, but he held himself. "I'm going home. Don't call me." he moved to the door. Abed tracked him with the camera.  
"Jeff, are you okay?"  
"What d'you think?" he snarled back, before stomping off. And nobody questioned it.

That had been close. Because Jeff knew, if he'd felt he was going to pass out when he'd been trying to get Pierce, he would've let it happen. He'd been so angry. That had to be locked down. Pressing a metal hatch down in his heart, Jeff threw away the key. His father had damage him more than enough. It wasn't going to happen again.

W/N: Fav, sub, comment, please and thank =) you guys keep me going!


	5. Chapter 5

The fifth time was almost a year past the fourth.

He'd believed it had finally stopped, or at least hit a good long length of time where he'd be free from it. Excellent. His mood had been better, excluding a couple of furious moments that had - thank the lord - not ended up with him collapsing in the middle of the study room. This time, in fact, he was in Troy and Abed's apartment. He'd been caught out on his clever trick with the die (one that worked so many times before), but as he'd stood, the ceiling fan had clipped him. Dumb low ceilings. Pizza retrieved, as he'd come up the stairs he'd felt the pain building in the back of his skull. Maybe it had been triggered, maybe not.

But as he hung off to the edge, murdering a slice of pizza, smiling at the group, there was a disconcerting feeling of being disconnected from reality. Reaching up, his fingertips brushed his nostrils. The red was predictable, bright. Jerking his head up, he stared across at the group, eyes wide and alarmed. Dropping the slice on top of the boxes, Jeff followed instinct, darting through the apartment. Nobody noticed him go. Shutting the door behind him, he managed to sit, back against the wall, before he slumped.

When he came to, slowly, the music was still playing loudly through the wall. A minute, then. Or less. Maybe. He'd tried sometimes to time how long he was out for, but it had never really worked out. His brain always got too scrambled to check his watch before he went down like a ton of bricks. Or to process the information as soon as he came to. Sitting in the bathroom with spots of blood on his shirt, Jeff found himself considering how he'd ended up in this situation. Desperately wanting a drink, in the bathroom of some good friends, with a bowl of olives above the toilet and all the people he considered his - considered… good people. Friends. Friends of the kind he hadn't had since he was a tiny child and his father was still around. Friends in the other room, dancing and laughing to a good song while he was in the cold and suffering from something he had no idea what it was and too scared to find out.

Getting to his feet slowly, gripping the edge of the sink with one arm. Jeff spent time splashing water in his face, wiping away the blood as best he could, adding a little style to his hair, looking as normal as he could. There were faint brown marks where the blood had stained on the shirt, but they weren't too visible, thank god. Nobody would notice. And really… they hadn't, it seemed. Except maybe for some glances from Annie. They were all having fun. And that was what mattered. They didn't need him there. Moving away, he opened the door silently and slipped away, at his limit for the night. They wouldn't notice, he was sure.

By the time they texted him, he was already at home with a glass of scotch, staring blankly at the turned-off TV.

W/N: Please like, comment, sub - wait this isn't you tube. UUHH…

Comments are love!


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry about the mix-up, guys! I originally wrote chapters 4 and 5 the other way around, but managed to upload the old copies of the files. I've changed them around now and can only apologise for my mistake!_

W/N: Last part. Hope you guys enjoyed it. I've never been sure about the 'five times' thing because I was never sure if you're supposed to do 5 total or do 6? But I did 6. Because I wanted to! THERE.

Okay, enjoy your whump

Two weeks. It had been two weeks. That was the smallest amount of time he'd ever had between fainting spells, and before that point the closest together it had been was six. That was a hell of a gap to shorten, for something like this. Truly, it was remarkable. He'd been at Greendale for over two years, now; surely he was as strong and confident as when he'd been a lawyer? But maybe the hint to shutting them out was to shut down, and he… wasn't sure how much of an option that was any more. Not when he was surrounded by friends. After slipping away at Troy and Abed's, he'd responded that he hadn't felt too well, and so he'd gone. Nobody questioned it beyond that point, thank god.

This time he didn't manage to hide it.

Annie's move. He'd been keeping an eye on Twitter while he was shopping, of course, when he was collared by the dean, when he was forced to endure that goddamned song, and when it all went tits up. After he'd been forcibly ejected from the booth, he decided to go make it up to the rest of them, to be honest. Because anything was better than being forced to hang out with the dean. Making a stop to pick up some beer and sodas, thinking maybe it could be a bit of a party when they'd finished ripping him apart for lying, maybe they could have some fun. The astonishment when they so rapidly forgave him was quickly replaced with horror and rage as he saw the tweet.

"He tweeted it!" he cried out, as the others sang the song and laughed. "Goddamned bastard! He tricked me, you guys know that, right?"  
"Yeah, likely story Jeff." the laughing group pushed with him, out into the main room, as he shook his head and put the heavy box of drinks down on the table.

"You guys are the worst, you know that?" he told them, as Britta put her iPod in on the dock and played the song. "Oh my god, don't you make me sing it as well-"  
"Come on, sourpuss!" that was Annie, grabbing his hand, and he smiled faintly at her, even with reproach in his eyes. The group started singing along and he let himself start to join in.

Then the nausea hit him. "I, uh-" he broke off mid note. "I'm just gonna go to the bathroom." he eased back from Annie, but Britta snapped out a hand, grabbing his arm.

"Oh no, you are not getting out of this, Jeff!"

"Come on, Jeffrey, have a little fun." Shirley added, giggling, before bursting out with some more lyrics. Jeff blinked, wavering where he stood,  
"Guys, I really - really need to go to the bathroom-" he insisted, but Britta laughed again, tugging him closer to the iPod. He jerked back, pulling his arm free, but he felt too foggy. Taking a step backwards, he looked around, trying to just get away, to another room, so they wouldn't see this-  
"Jeff, are you okay?" Annie asked, and all the levity in the room was gone. His eyes were wide with panic, his skin pale, his knees going weak.  
"Oh sweet baby jesus-" Shirley gasped, as he went down like a ton of bricks. Britta automatically stepped back, even as the others stepped forward, meaning he landed on the hard floor with a hefty thud.

"Britta!" Annie gasped at her, "Why didn't you catch him?!"  
"Oh, he's just faking." Pierce muttered, "Attention seeker. Doesn't want to sing." folding his arms over his chest, he watched as the group crouched around Jeff. Gingerly, Annie rolled him over, then grasped his wrist, checking his pulse.

"No, he's definitely unconscious. Should we call an ambulance?"

"Oh god, maybe he wasn't faking being at the hospital earlier," Britta said, "What if he went to the store after and that was when the Dean got it?"

"No. He said he was faking." Abed pointed out, "Put something soft under his head. If he's unconscious for more than two minutes, then you have to call for an ambulance. That's when brain damage starts occurring."

Troy was freaking out in the background, whimpering about Jeff dying. Britta went over to him, put a hand on his arm. "Troy, it's fine. Jeff'll be fine. He's probably just - I dunno, stressed out or something! And if he was going to die, surely he'd want to die with us." Troy let out a whine that was surprisingly Abed-like and Britta just hugged him, not sure what else to say.

Annie was crouching near Jeff's head, staring at him with worry in her face.

"I knew I should've said something earlier…" she whispered, stroking a bit of his hair. They looked over at her, astonished, and Shirley's face drew together into what they thought of as 'momma face'.

"What're you talking about, Annie?"

"Well, at Troy and Abed's housewarming, he - walked out." she said, quietly. "but when I went to the bathroom there was blood on the floor." the whole group was staring at her in horror.

"I thought they cut their face shaving or something! I didn't think - but he had that nosebleed before. D'you remember? There must be something going on that none of us realised."

"Jeff Winger isn't okay." Abed said, quietly. "We should've seen it. The fearless leader with the power of speeches but a secret serious condition. Like Tony Stark, before he had it removed."

"Am I iron man?" the croak got everyone's attention. There were many gasps of relief around the room, and Annie almost shoved Abed out of the way to grab ahold of him in a tight hug. "Ow." Jeff said quietly, and she drew back, before hitting him hard on the shoulder. "Ow!"

"You bastard! Why would you keep this from me?!" Annie squealed, and Troy took her shoulder, trying to calm her. "How long has this been going on?" Jeff swallowed hard, resting his head back on - was that Abed's hoodie?

"Guys, it's fine. It's been happening since I was a kid. I -"

"How often have you collapsed at the college? You drive, Jeff! You're risking people's lives!"

"I get… warning signs. I tried to get away, Annie-"

"Is that why you left? Because you passed out in the bathroom?!" her voice was reaching ear-splitting levels and Shirley reached out, touching her shoulder. "You need to see a doctor, Jeff. This isn't normal."

Jeff's eyes flickered around the group, who were all nodding.

"You're not going to let me live until I go, are you?" he addressed the group at large, who exchanged glances then nodded. Sighing, he ran a hand over his eyes. "Alright. Fine. Thanks, guys." he gave them a faint smile, but it drifted away quickly. He should've known he couldn't keep it quiet. At least he knew he wasn't going to have to face this alone.

"Can I get up now? I think we could all do with a beer."

W/N: And that's a wrap, folks. I might make a follow up if people are interested (and if I can work out what's actually wrong with him)… this series was mostly for my own pleasure, not gonna lie. Gotta love damaged, fainting Jeff =)

As ever, please fav / comment! Comments are life.


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